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| Packing and Departing | ||||||||
Our Magic Coach - Cinderella, eat your heart out! |
Saturday
July 15
Today we pick up our rental for our first-ever RV trip. After two hours at the rental yard (the agency is in no particular hurry to finish its preparation), we finally pull the 31-foot monster onto the road -- with trepidation. The California freeway is a whole new experience in this critter! Finally home with our cumbersome prize, Mike wrestles the creature up to the curb by our driveway for loading. Packing takes exactly the four hours I had predicted. My living room is littered with boxes of pre-marshalled supplies, which helps shorten the time. But after we see that storage is plentiful, I find myself throwing in many last-minute items. Some, as it turns out, will prove useful. Ready but exhausted, we fall into bed -- while visions of RV parks dance in our heads. |
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| Our target for
our first night is a KOA campground at Manchester Beach, a few miles south of Mendocino.
Leaving behind the fast lanes of
Highway 101, we strike out on a "scenic byway"- -map code
for "don't take an RV here." However, naive optimism
carries us through the scariest hairpins we will
encounter on this trek.
My motion sickness forces me to take the wheel from Mike for the worst of the drive. I get us through with nary a scrape, but Mike's knuckles are now permanently white. Wimp! The rugged coastline is beautiful, but the weather is not cooperating -- gray overcast and chilly winds. Those sweatshirts grabbed at the last minute may come in VEEEERY handy!
The KOA is a pleasant wooded campground near
the beach. Mike backs us into a
narrow space between two apparently permanent trailers, complete with hanging
plants, wind chimes, and astroturf. One of our neighbors, Bill, has a bird feeder
that attracts squirrels and
scurrying California quail for us to watch. |
Typical view from Highway 1 - waaaaay down below us! |
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Carolyn shivers at the seashore.
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We decide to make the three-quarter-mile trek
to the beach despite the cold. I look like The Mummy in three layers of
sweatshirts, gloves, and
a hat, and I can still feel the wind.
After slogging through a hundred yards of sand and iceplant, we are rewarded with a glimpse of sullen, half-hearted breakers wallowing on a dingy beach - another 200 yards away. So much for scenery and the beach. We turn back, my flabby thighs howling in protest. Back at camp, we walk around looking at all the different coaches and trailers, gathering information for our future purchase. A brand-new 32-foot fifth-wheel catches our eye; we boldly introduce ourselves to its owners and they graciously give us a tour. My mouth waters over the comfy lounge chairs, the full-size kitchen and the luxurious bedroom.
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